Wallungen

y hablamos de Netflix
y hablamos de la guerra
las armas para Ucrania
y las setas de mi nevera
hablamos de nuestros huesos enfermos
ropa, hormonas, vitaminas,
nuestras carreras y nuestras parejas
La IA y todas las crisis
sobre las que leemos hoy

but what is it with the hate in the world
and what is it with my flowers
they are dying, it’s too hot
but there’s nobody to water them
during my Ayurveda retreat
I compete with the time, and how are you ?

let me have a sip of wine
and I’ll tell you what I think
about the elections, the stars and tanks
I’ll tell you how I see the future or the past
through James Webb Space Telescope
how I cope with not having hope
for the world
as long as it gives me comfort
and the feeling of importance
I’m informed, and how about you?

there’s an olive in my mouth
mixed with quinoa salad
and the fruit
strange fruit, bitter touch
a sip of a french wine,
intertwined with words like
strike and mother and all the other
less important people
but have we ever spoken about NATO?
the kids in Yemen or Plato?

la globalización en mi boca
mezcla autosuficiente de sabor, sonido y pensamiento
nada nuevo
siempre prueba de vida en este
cuento de hadas casi tridimensional de felicidad y éxito
Estoy lleno, ¿y tú?

Aquí viene sin invitación
pelo largo y rubio
su belleza grita en mi cara,
con restos de naturaleza en sus ojos
en esos ojos del color del arco iris
disfrazados de confianza, como ella pensaría

under those layers
I imagine her short past
her future
and the answers
to why the heck does she think
I’d be happy to get her advice

I hope she’s not planning
To talk to me
with only 20 years of being here
in this world

there is a perfume wall between us
sweet – flowers dung on my tongue
I do not breathe
I hope she won’t talk
I hope she won’t instruct me
about the needs
of my mid – forties face

y entonces empieza
con persistencia, muchas palabras
corro hacia ese estado sordo de mi mente
la única manera de evitar
sus ideas para redefinir
la edad, mis arrugas
manchas oscuras y mejillas flácidas

ah, she knows so well what I need
reciting the lyrics of that Douglas Lied
thinking – I’ll be happy to get her guidance
about the demands of midlife crisis

y gracia no es lo que siento
sofocos es lo que siento
la necesidad de un saco de boxeo o un grito,
un destello al final de este túnel lleno de palabras

I need a solution for my mood
not another reason for being rude
if I only could…
I’m shrinking, I’m thinking
whether to buy
the most expensive thing in the store
or nothing at all
I need a solution for my anger

y gracia no es lo que siento
sofocos es lo que siento
Cambios de humor
Niebla cerebral
Falta de motivación
Dolores de cabeza
Sudores nocturnos
Sensibilidad mamaria
Sofocos
Parada de la menstruación
Problemas digestivos
Aumento rápido de peso
Pérdida de Libido
Sequedad vaginal
Osteoporosis
Rigidez articular
Dolores musculares
Disminución de la confianza
Adelgazamiento del cabello
Piel seca
Acné
Ojos secos
Arrugas
Boca seca
Hinchazón
Fatiga
Insomnio
Ansiedad
Dolor urinario
Sensación de humedad
Ardor en la boca
Vello facial
Mareos
Falta de concentración
Depresión

Aquí viene sin invitación
pelo largo y rubio
su belleza grita en mi cara
Su nombre es: Véndeme todo lo que tengas

conozco ese lugar de la nada
de la pereza real y la santa horca
un lugar donde nunca abro mi aplicación del tiempo,
y tengo pijamas para cada ocasión

a silent protest of the dust spread around all the floors
like grey blow-balls dispersed around the summer afternoon
but I don’t care, I let them live their dusty lives

y yo como la reina de mi día
desfilando entre el sofá y la cocina
ordenando y dejando escapar suspiros de una tarde feliz

I make a list of all the things I won’t do today:
I won’t try
I won’t let the guilt to sneak in this light room
only sunlight in the room
I won’t…

I won’t plan, or… I will
It’s nice to spend a minute or two
thinking about me do
nothing else but making blue
like that German girl I knew
she was the best, the master in blau machen
she would be able to make the whole world easy
like Sunday morning,

easy like the feather lost in that baby – blue sky

Everything starts with a cloud.
from big bang to the cloud
to the little big bang of the birth,
to bean stew every Friday,
from hating it to loving it,
to getting sick of it over the years,
to becoming nostalgic about the familiar, and missing that stew again,
working on it until it tastes like mother’s, then passing the recipe to the first friend that visited.

la sutil combinación de acciones conscientes e inconscientes
hace el guiso de judías perfecto.

entropy of my will,
longing for the Friday’s bean stew in my family home,
a bit of stardust,
technology,
infinite procrastination,
hunger, 400g of white beans planted by some Stephan in Oyten,
and extra time that social distancing gave us to start missing the things.

meanwhile the snow stopped,
that tireless boy from downstairs is turning the building upside-down
the universe is still expanding,
my neighbourhood sounds busy,
police sirens acting like Munich is a metropole,
and I’m trying to get my head around this chaotic thoughts,
eager to make an order of this disorder of a system.
all turning towards transformation,
as Greeks would translate.

There is no end. there is only the process that is happening in uncountable Nows.
Now now now…

at the end there can still be some dancing with the dead,
ashes turned into shiny colorful beads,
or what I would choose – sitting on a chair, in the fanciest of clothes,
with a lit cigarette in my lips.

empieza en la nube y termina en lo mismo.